Sacred
by Hitorikiri
Summary: 2+1 from Duo's P.O.V. Rated for slight language and shonen ai. Everyone has something that they consider sacred.... r&r, please, even if only to laugh at the pitiful author....


Disclaimer: I own nothing. A lot of nothing, in fact. So if you would like said nothing, go ahead and sue. But they aren't mine.. Warnings: Basically a 2+1 story from Duo's P.O.V. Shonen ai, some sap (don't expect any more from me) slight angst (lot more of that to be written) bit of language and yeah, other stuff.. Blame: I think I will blame this one on my best friend Leila, who isn't really a muse, but has to sub in as one because all of mine are on strike. Good going Lei'  
  
  
  
Sacred  
  
  
  
There are very few things in my life that I consider sacred. My braid, for example, as one of the more physical things, and my pride for another, the slightly less visible, but no less valuable. But those are easy things to keep, easy things to injure. So when someone saves my ass in battle and then laughs at me (without telling me his name....), or when that same some one yanks on my hair to get me to stop singing while making repairs, I know that it may hurt for a while, but soon, he'll simply have hell(or a shampoo bottle full of grease) to pay. See, I don't sweat the small stuff, cause I know that anything a person considers sacred can never really be destroyed. Sometimes though, ya really gotta make the bastard pay.  
  
Some day, I have a feeling that there will be a great book published about the Gundam pilots, writing down all of their battles and reviewing their pasts over and over again until everyone in the universe has heard it a million and a half times. I have already decided that if no one mentions my braid, Shinigami will come back from hell to kill everyone of the authors and then the editors before finally rewriting the book and making the universe read it another million and a half times so that they won't forget. I know I never will. Childhood is not something everyone was graced with, and I'd like to keep the reminder of mine, thank you very much. Sister Helen was a very important person in my life, and in turn in the course of the war because of how she changed me. I want the world to see the affidavit of that, especially if they don't see the golden cross I wear around my neck. Whether or not I actually believed in their god isn't the issue. The issue is my hair, as selfish as that may sound, and it would make me a very happy person to know that one of my reverences is known around the world, even if only as something that I believed in.  
  
I think that of all things, pride is something that everyone should have. Pride in themselves, pride in the others around them, proud of the fact that the simple shit that they do can make a difference to someone out there. I have pride in all the songs that I sing, the spaghetti I manage to ruin, the battles I fight (both physical and mental), and the friendship I give to the people around me (thankful or other) because I know that someone has benefited from those things. I could name each one of them off to you too, but I think that the only interesting one is the part where Wufei learned the importance of never asking why the pasta tasted like someone had mixed in a can and a half of chili powder (it was two cans for his information, and Heero actually liked it fine....). I think he was still sick the next day, but it's really not my fault that he didn't like my spicy food. I was very proud of the fact that I had made a dinner by myself, and the fact that Wufei didn't care for it was something completely out of my immediate control. Can't say I really felt too sorry for the dude either (he made a crack about the braid not three minutes before hand). I mean, don't get me wrong, I rather like Fei, but no one makes a crack about one of the few things Duo Maxwell holds sacred.  
  
Even if he happens to be one.  
  
I have never wallowed in self pity. I never saw the need, because where I come from, its either get up and go on, or sit down and wait for death. While death has never actually been a fear of mine, I always choose the former, though whether for myself or for everyone that depends on me I don't think I'll ever know. To the best of my memory, I have only once wished for death, and that one time was scary enough to convince me that I wasn't in a hurry for another. But memory, another one of the things on my short list of things I hold sacred, has made me repeat that one time over and over again in my head till I feel like crying to my heart's content. I know that some people make a deal about fading memories, but that has never been an issue, and this picture is no different.  
  
"Life is cheap, especially mine...." God, he may not have thought I heard, but I did, believe me I did. And in one moment, I actually saw into the mind of Heero Yuy, the boy whom mankind was depending on to save them, the fifteen year old who had never asked for anything a day in his life. He was fighting a war that wasn't even his, trying to ignore the one in his head, and here I was, his best friend, his fuckin' lover, and I had had no clue.  
  
I wanted to die then. Some part of me could not deal with the fact that I had let down the one person who had placed his complete faith on me, the one person I had some how allowed to become the thing I valued more than my braid, my pride, and my whole existence. I didn't cry then, but I sure as hell turned off the frequency. I couldn't bear to hear his voice any more, not while knowing that even after all we had been through, I had been ignoring the real Heero Yuy. I continued my fight, making everyone of those bastards pay for damaging the soul of the person that I held closer than Death himself. And after Heero finally destroyed Libra, and after the formalities with the other pilots had been observed, and after the enormous amount of celebrating that was in order of the peace we had finally managed to achieve, I stalked down that bastard Heero Yuy and made him pay.  
  
I know that the whole thing wasn't really his fault. But to some extent, anyone who thinks that they are worthless is partly responsible for that belief. Nevertheless, I apologized all I could, practically sobbing like a little child, desperately trying to convince him, that even if only to me, he had value. His life had value. His existence had value. And that he needed to take pride in that value. That was the first night he really opened up to me, and again I was reeled into the mind of the 'savior of the world,' the boy who was really fighting himself in a loosing battle, trying to over-come years of mental abuse that was never his fault to begin with. And he cried, not full out, but one or two small drops I was more than content to kiss from his otherwise dry cheeks.  
  
The universe is full of wonders, ladies and gentlemen, but the sight of my best friend trying to open up, trying to find the words to tell me about his world of self-reproach (self hatred is more accurate) is one that I will treasure forever. While easily the most depressing of any memory I possess, it reminds me that someone else is counting on me to not wallow in self pity, and to get up and keep moving, even when Death himself is laughing me in the face.  
  
Believe me, it hasn't been a piece of cake to recover Heero from himself, but is worth the effort, if you're one of the lucky people who gets to know him. Just as unfriendly as ever on the outside, but if you look for it, then you will find all the characteristics that make him the absolutely beautiful person I have come to love. Because I have told him that, and he me (not in so many words, but its there). No one messes with the things that I love, and anyone who tries will now have Shinigami to pay.  
  
For now, I promise to keep living, for those few things I hold in reverence. Because even though my list of reasons is short, life is telling me that they are worth more than all the earth and colonies to hold on to.  
  
And I intend to.  
  
For now and for the rest of my life.  
  
~Owari  
  
Please, r&r, even if you hated it 


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